Prerequisite
by Aine.Ward
Summary: Leaving Queens, New York was both the toughest, and easiest think Juan Carlos ever did. Journey with him through his departure, and arrival to a little place named Charming. This is my take on his past, and how he became a part of Sam Cro.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first SoA story, and I have fallen in love with Juice- This is terribly bad for him. It now means he will be beaten severely in any story I write. Or hung… Or maybe drowned. If you are looking for a happy story, head someplace else. I'm into Juice Abuse.

Juice might flirt with people, but it won't be serious.

Disclaimer- I do not want to own SoA, and this is the property of Kurt Sutter and FX's characters. Just borrowing them for a story. If I did own them…. Juice would die way too many times!

Prerequisite

Chapter 1- Leaving and Charming

Juan Carlos ran up the fire escape, jumping high enough to catch the next ladder. His hands were gloved, black leather well worn. His outfit was similar in style, black, and well worn material, a sweater and jeans that seemed to hang off the young man. He was barely 18 years of age.. Soon, he made it to a broken window- His home. There wasn't much left of the building, long since condemned, yet no one had decided to destroy it quite yet. He had lived there for so long, barely remembered anyplace else as his home. Reaching in, mindful of the broken glass, he flicked the lock and slid it up. Years of practice helped him move inside quietly.

He stepped through the piles of debris, wall paper peeling and carpet long since ruined from a leaky roof. The front door had been barred close, so trash was scattered about. It was a horrible place to live, but when you didn't have any money, there weren't many options. Finally, he made it to the back bedroom, and stared at the bed for a few minutes, his resolve slowly breaking down.

4 heads were resting there, snuggled tightly on a twin sized bed, the only piece of furniture in the room. From their faces, their ages ranged from 5 years to 12 years old. Most had dark curly hair, sticking at odd angles from sleep, and Juan thought if angels existed, these would be them. But he steeled himself, moving towards the closet and grabbing his sleeping bag, tool set, and 2 changes of clothes. Creeping back to what should have been their living room, settling on the floor and laid out the sleeping bag. Carefully, Juan opened the tool kit, and flipped through the pieces. He couldn't take them all, but chose the ones he knew he would need regularly to maintain his bike. Placing them inside the sleeping bag, along with the change of clothes, he rolled them up tight, securing the sleeping bag to his back like a pack. Moving back to the window, Juan glanced behind him towards the bedroom, wishing he could hug or kiss them one last time, but knew if he did, he would stay. If he stayed… well, he would die in this place. Feeling tears welling up in his eyes, Juan went back through the window and shut it.

He felt the boot in his back as he approached the hole for the ladder. Knocking him off balanced, he pin wheeled for a few seconds before tumbling down 10 feet and hitting the next fire escape landing. Groaning, he rolled onto his side as the landing vibrated. His attacker had come down to join him on the fire escape.

"So, Whiney, where do you think you're going?" Juan groaned again, recognizing the voice. It didn't help they had used his least favorite nickname in the world, Juan with a y at the end. He looked the man in the eye, wishing he didn't feel so vulnerable right that second.

"Mark, I'm getting out of here. I didn't sign up for this shit, I-" a kick to his gut caught him off guard. He coughed, tasting the blood in his mouth.

"Too bad, my friend. We still need you. Just edit a few more files and we will let you out, and pay you too." He crossed his arm, flashing the young man a smile.

Juan stared at the towering figure, eyes wide, scared. But it was all an act. He had faced enough threatening people to know what they wanted, and how to deliver it. Kicking out his legs, he knocked Mark off balance, before jumping up and attacking the man. He felt the man's arm loop around his neck, and groaned, seconds before the air was cut off. Juan felt himself start to panic, but it worked against Mark. Juan gabbed, scratched and clawed, even biting down on the man's arm, smiling with a feral-like pleasure as the other screamed in pain. He shoved the man backwards, shocked as the fire escape's safety bar suddenly gave way, and Mark fell. It was a 20 foot drop.

He stared for a few seconds before taking the last two ladders down, and moved towards the unmoving body. Carefully, he kicked Mark onto his back, terrified what he would find. But, the other man was breathing, just knocked out. Juan stared at him for a second, before started pacing. Suddenly, he reached over and searched the man's pocket, finding a wad of cash. He stood up, before leaning back down and re-adjusting Mark's body so he was on his side.

Pocketing the cash, he headed for his bike, a piece of shit frankenstined vehicle, chopped and rechopped to the point no frame would ever match its design. But Juan loved his bike, something he had made from scratch, and with one crank, she was roaring with life, and took him away to the night.

* * *

The bike ate up miles of road before Juan Carlos had to make his first stop, the sun just rising, warming his back. He pulled up to the gas station, hopping off the bike and stretching. He didn't know what time he left New York, or where he was, but his body said he had ridden for too long. Moving towards the store, he pulled off the sweatshirt, revealing a plain white T.

Entering, Juan smiled as the little bell above the door rang, and looked through the shelves. He wasn't that hungry, but knew if he didn't drink anything now, driving outside on the asphalt and under the sun, he might dehydrate himself. He grabbed an orange juice and a cranberry juice, before approaching the counter. He set the items down, before going through his pockets. The jeans were an old pair of ginkgos, a million pockets, but comfy as hell. Finally, he found 10 dollars, and handed it to the lady.

"So, juice, anything else you need?" The young woman behind the counter asked, dirty blonde hair tied in a pony tail.

Juan smiled, "Mind putting the change on the motorcycle out there?" He pointed outside towards the bike. She studied him, as if considering turning to look. Finally dawning why, he raised his hands, so she could see them.

Instantly, her cheeks became inflamed with color, and brown eyes looked down at the items before looking outside. As she turned back, her cheek darkened even more as the biker's hands were in the same position.

"I-I'm sorry, I hope you are no- I mean to say…" She stuttered out what sounded like an apology, but Juan flashed her a disarming smile, making her blush for a different reason.

"It's ok. Better safe than sorry. Have a good morning…" He glanced down to her chest, a nice rack, but disguised it as a peak at her name tag, "Ami… "

He turned, grabbing the juices and chugging the OJ as he left. He almost sputtered out the orange liquid as she called, "You too Mr. Juice!" before shaking his head and going to fill up the tank. He was heading for the West coast, and knew he had 2 more days of driving.

The journey was a rough one, and he didn't stop, only to nap every hour, but some sun screen, and refuel his tank and himself every once in a while. After nearly 50 hours of this, he noticed the E light on again, and pulled off the highway. He roared past the city sign, barely noting he was now riding towards "Charming." He had slept about 5 hours total in the past 50, and figured after refueling, he could afford one night in a motel room. He figured he would sleep for about a week, if he could. But, it was late afternoon, and he felt his skin well tanned from the long journey.

Pulling into a motel, he parked his bike and stumbled towards the main doors. The man, elderly, balding, shot him an odd look until he pulled out what was left of his cash, a 50 still visible in the roll. They exchanged, cash for key, and Juan figured he still had 80 dollars left. He would worry about cash tomorrow. For now, he stumbled to his designated room, the ride quickly taking a toll on him, but he wanted, no, needed a shower before he crashed out.

After a quick shower, Juan sighed, wrapping a towel around his waist and somehow making it to the bed and passing out.

* * *

How did you like it? Juice doesn't look the type to sleep very often, and I know riding a bike for 2 days straight probably will put some hurt on him. For me, I feel it more the next day.

If you like my story, keep an eye out for others. They will follow the main story plot, but I feel like Juice is hiding so much… And I will beat it out of him! And some things will be altered from the original story arch, but so minor, it won't really matter. ^.^


	2. To Key or Not to Key

A/N: Chapter 1 went over well, so here comes chapter 2! I hope you all enjoy this one as well! Thank you Death-Muncher, atothekc, and really special thank you to lederra, because I've read most, if not all od your stories, and that's why I am writing now…

Disclaimer- I do not want to own SoA, and this is the property of Kurt Sutter and FX's characters. Just borrowing them for a story. If I did own them…. Juice would die way too many times!

Prerequisite

Chapter 2- To Key or Not to Key

Juan Carlos woke standing. It was an odd feeling, being vertical when you should be horizontal. It had happened enough to know something kicked his instincts into high gear, though he couldn't figure out what. Then, he heard the rapping of knuckles on wood, and realized someone was knocking on the door. 3 seconds later, he remembered he was in a motel room. In a town named Charming. On the West Coast. Shaking his head, Juan took a step towards the door. Instantly, his thighs gave a throb, reminding him how he had been on his bike for over 45 hours straight. He groaned, but didn't stop the ground crashing towards him.. or was it the other way around?

"I need more sleep…" He muttered to himself, before the knocking started up again.

Army crawling over, the young man grabbed the door handle, and pulled himself up, unlocking it and sliding the door open. He recognized the face of the man last night, though now the face seemed pissed off.

"Check out was at noon, it's now almost 2 pm…." Juan's eyebrows rose, before turning back towards the clock. He then froze. He was butt ass naked. Luckily, only his chest was showing, so he hoped the motel owner, or so he assumed was the owner, didn't think too much of it.

"Ya.. shit, I'm sorry. Give me a second, I'll buy the room for another night…" He trailed off, looking towards the bathroom and spotting his pants and shirt, littering the floor in front of the door. He looked back to the owner, who raised an eyebrow, before throwing one of his disarming smiles at the man.

"Just… give me a second…" He shut the door quickly, hearing a huff from the other side, before half limping, half waddling to his dirty pair of pants. Juan quickly searched the pockets, finding the wad of cash and counted out 50 dollars, how much the room was last night. He looked at the last 30 dollars he owned, before sighing and making it back to the door. He paused, grabbing his sleeping bag and unrolling it, pulling on a pair of underwear and pants, before rolling it back up, and heading towards the door.

"I'm sorry, I don't have enough money for another night. Can I give you 10 dollars and get out of your hair?" Juan looked slightly ashamed, but he had been late checking out, technically, and the honorable thing to do would pay a late checkout fee. The owner studied him, before shaking his head.

"Look, if you are out of here in 20 minutes, you can keep the 10." He glanced around, before leaning in close, "And, if you come back tonight, around 8 pm, if we have any openings, will sell you the room for 30 dollars.." The man straightened, his gruff appearance returning. "But you would need to be out of here by 11 am the next morning."

The smile on the young man's face put even the sun's brightness to shame. "T-Thank you sir, I might take you up on the offer.." He leaned backwards, "I gotta pack, and get out of your hair… Thanks again.." With a nod, the two men went their separate ways.

Juan shut the door, leaning against it with a sigh. Stumbling over to the bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror, and winced. His right side had become a beautiful rainbow of yellows, greens and blues, probably from the stairwell. Turning, Juan groaned, actually seeing the tredmarks of Mark's boot in his bruising on his back. Knowing there was nothing he could do, the young man went to his sleeping bag, grabbing his dirty clothes on the way. He pulled on a plain black shirt, pocketed the 80 dollars before pausing and pulling a 10 out. He set the bill where the maid could find it easily. He then rolled up the sleeping bag, balled up the dirty sheets, and headed out into the sunlight.

Juan pulled into a fast food joint, grabbing a burger from the dollar menu, before hearing the rumble of bikes. Soon, about 8 bikes went roaring by, down the street, turned a corner, and were gone. He sat there for a second, chewing thoughtfully, before finishing off the burger and kickstarting his bike. He followed their path, not really hunting them down, but curious as to where they were going.

The journey wasn't long until he came across Teller Morrow Motorcycle & Auto Repair, where he assumed they had pulled in. Otherwise, this small town had a surplus of bikes. They were all parked, and most of the bikers had wondered in, though a few still hung outside. Juan pulled in, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut as all heads turned towards him. Finally, he pulled into a customer's only spot and hopped off, making his way to the customer service entrance.

A woman stood behind the desk, a beautiful gal dressed all in black. Her hair was loose, black with brown and blonde highlights accenting her youthful features, though she was older than he was. She was leaning against the desk, biting her lip as her eyes darted across the computer screen. Eyes wandering, Juan Carlos took in her figure, a lovely build, well maintained. Suddenly, her eyes met his, and he gulped. She had caught him, and fire were burning in her eyes.

"If you have something to say, spill, otherwise, 20 dollars to continue looking." Her voice was musical, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Of course, Carlos didn't see the smile, his eyes on the floor, his feet shuffling.

"I-I'm s-sorr…" He ran an hand over his semi-shaved head, the Mohawk was a comfort underneath his fingers as he blushed.

The woman stood, crossing her arms. "So, what do you want?"

Snapping to attention, Carlos threw a thumb over his shoulder, towards the outside. She raised a well manicured eyebrow. "My bike. It needs an oil change. Just came from the East Coast to here…"

Her smile suddenly turned extremely sweet. He realized that business probably wasn't perfect, and customer could sneak a peek if they could pay. "Our computer system is down, but if you fill out this form, we will get started on that." They both eyed the computer, before the woman hit it once and then grabbed a piece of paper for the young man to fill out. She walked to the door, looking at the row of bikes, instantly seeing the newcomer.

Juan went to work, filling out the paper quickly. Suddenly, the woman spoke, startling the man.

"What type of bike is that?"

"Oh…" A blush darkened his ears, "It's a Frankenstein. Mostly a Harley, but it is completely customized." He moved to the door, looking at his beauty. "How did you know which one was my bike?"

"Ah…." She turned to the young man. "My husband, may his soul rest in peace, was the president of the local Motorcycle Club…." She eyed them, seeing him drawing a blank, "SAM CRO?" He shrugged and she sighed, "You young kids have to keep in touch with the real world…"

Juan laughed, raising his hands. "Hey, I just pulled in yesterday. Don't get mad because I don't know of any gangs.." The woman shot him a death look, "I mean motorcycle clubs around here.." He handed her the form, throwing her a smile. "But maybe I can learn more about it….?"

The woman smiled, shaking her head. "Membership is limited.." She looked at the paperwork, "Juan Carlos… no last name?" The young man startled, before realizing how odd his name was indeed. But, maybe a fake last name wouldn't hurt….

"Oh, shit.. I'm sorry. Let me fix that.." He grabbed the paperwork back, editing it, and handing it over once more.

"…Ok, Mr. Ortiz, we are a little behind right now, but the boys will take care of your ride, just give me a minute to give them this…" The woman left, and Juan was alone… with the computer.

Juan promised himself he would be good, not to draw too much attention to himself here. He didn't want any trouble, not like back in Queens.

He would avoid any club or gang like surroundings.

He would not become involved with the people of Charming, except when necessary.

He wondered how the hell he had gotten in front of the computer screen.

And then, Juan Carlos was gone. He lavished in the feel of the mouse, taking in how laggy the computer was being. No programs were responding. Probably some sort of virus, maybe a worm. A few clicks and he found it, very simple, and he quickly re-wrote the programming for the virus, making it self destruct. The computer didn't have any virus protection, and he knew it would only be a matter of time. Quickly, Juan uploaded a trustworthy protection program while defragging the poor computer.

"When was the last time someone tuned you up?" His eyes drifted to the computer tower itself, longingly wishing he had his tools to tear it apart and give it a good once over. Maybe some parts were out of date…

"What the hell are you doing?" A voice, once beautiful and musical, now had a screechy tone to it. Instantly, Juan felt like hitting himself before back up, leaning against the wall as the woman, once extremely friendly, looked like she was about to claw his eyes out.

"I-I'm sorry. You were complaining.. and I.." She shoved him, moving to the computer and gave the mouse a shake… and froze. She shook the mouse again, before clicking a few programs. They opened quickly…. She turned to Carlos, a look of, 'Well, explain yourself' and the young man sighed, before shrugging.

"I'm really good with computers.. I just fixed it…" She blinked at him, before turning back to the computer. He continued, "It had a virus, so I installed a protection program… ya, that icon right there, it keeps your computer safe… well, safer. And I.. cleaned up your computer, erasing all those old files you deleted before, but didn't truly erase.." She turned to him.

"What do you mean, didn't truly erase?" She spoke like he might be hiding something.

"When you delete something, it still stays in your computer. I didn't see what you deleted, but I made sure it was gone for good. Not even the police can find it anymore…"

She stared at him, before presenting her hand. "My name is Gemma Teller-Marrow. Your bike is done, but It would be kind of you to stop by later tonight. I would like to talk to you more on your computer skills, maybe offer you a job here. The boys say your bike is extra clean, well taken care of…"

Juan Carlos paused, before taking her hand. "It's a pleasure, Miss Teller- Marrow."

A/N- Actually, this chapter was done 3 days ago, but it was my birthday, and then I added more. Also, was inspired to write a one shot, in the works, and another full length Juice story, but that one is extremely dark, the darkest thing my mind has ever come up with…..


End file.
